


you'll come through

by fellasitsgay



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: (not as sad as the tags make it seem tbh), Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Gen, Moving On, Non-Canonical Character Death, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellasitsgay/pseuds/fellasitsgay
Summary: Wherein Jason goes through nearly two years trying to do what he should: move on.alternatively: things will get better for the five of us





	you'll come through

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'a breakfast over sugar' from In Trousers (which is completely unrelated to this but eh)  
> any/all mistakes are mine  
> enjoy!

Whizzer isn't getting better.

Jason is almost thirteen when he realizes this. 

As the date of Bar Mitzvah approaches, the weaker Whizzer is becoming. He still tries to give his best smile when they visit, no matter who it is: Cordelia and her tupperware containers full of food that begin leave full as time passes, Trina and Mendel with sincere smiles and small plants in Trina’s arms, Marvin with his wobbly smiles and love that hangs in the air, Charlotte telling Whizzer—and the rest of them—what is already known with a voice that gets more tired with each visit.

They play chess and card games and sometimes Whizzer wins, but maybe it’s only because Jason lets him, or he’s just good—but what good does it do when he’s _dying_? Marvin is sometimes still there when they come, sitting close to or _in_ the bed laying flush against Whizzer’s side; but no matter what position, their hands are gripping each other and, in the instances where one or both of them are awake, soft words leave their lips. Jason doesn’t know _what_ , exactly, but he’s sure it’s something sappy if their sweet and shaky smiles are anything to go by.

Jason turns thirteen when Whizzer is taken out of the room, leaning against Charlotte and looking too thin, too pale. Jason knows he’s supposed to be a man now, but he feels so small, like he’s eleven all over again and watching his dad leave their house. But now one of his friends—one of his _dads_ —is leaving forever, and the room juggles between sharp focus and blurry as Trina gently ushers them out, save for Marvin who’s been left behind, probably to give him space.

The adults are sniffling and trying to quiet themselves, but everything sounds so loud and _bright_. Marvin continues to stare where Charlotte and Whizzer left, looking lost and heartbroken. Jason isn’t crying outright, but he can feel his chest tightening and hurting. He feels as though he’s floating when he leaves his mother’s arms and goes to Marvin, grabbing his hand and gently pulling him out.

After tearful goodbyes, Cordelia and Marvin go back to their apartments, walking close together with his head on her shoulder and their arms around each other. 

The drive home feels somewhat muted, with Trina and Mendel talking rapidly and quietly in front of him. They’re already talking about the funeral service, hoping to include Marvin in the planning as soon as possible, and _that_ is when it truly hits him. He sobs in the back, bringing his knees as close as he can to his chest, trying to make himself smaller. Trina turns in her seat and tries to reach Jason, who doesn’t unfurl completely but, instead, stretches a hand out and grabs onto hers. 

They don’t stay a long time like that, mainly because of safety concerns voiced by Mendel, but when she turns around, she reaches her hand back again.  

They stay like that the rest of the drive.

—————

It’s his first funeral, and he hopes not all of them hurt as much as this. 

Whizzer’s grave marker goes up some weeks after, and it opens old wounds, but it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would—it’s slightly worse. As everyone moves to a stand little ways away with Marvin in the center, they wait for Jason as he decides to stay behind. He places a chess piece: a king. He hears a wet gasp and when he looks at his family, they’re looking at him with such solemn expressions. When Jason walks back to them, Marvin pulls him in and gives him a tight hug that he’ll probably feel for the rest of the day. Everyone comes together, surrounding them and it’s not suffocating. 

Jason is nearly fourteen when they give _it_ a name; then, change it because it didn’t just affect certain people. But that doesn’t stop the kids at school. Most of them have parents who are cruel and repeat what they heard with vindication. Say that “ _they_ ” deserve it, as if death was punishment for existing, as if the people dying every day after suffering for so long asked for it. He hears the words come out of some kid whose face screams ‘douchebag’ and   _something_ happens that lands him in the principal’s office waiting for his parents to come in and pick him up. Jason knows he shouldn't have hit the other kid, but it doesn't matter now. Finally, someone comes. It’s Mendel, who looks vaguely disappointed in him and tells him on the drive home that while what the other kid might’ve said was “probably not okay”, that didn’t mean Jason should have punched him. He learns exactly what the other kid said as they reach a red light. He sighs and pats Jason’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Mendel doesn’t tell him he’s right or wrong, just keeps driving. They talk when they get home (typical parent stuff mixed with some therapy) and Jason feels better afterwards, but he's still grounded for a week. 

He gets sessions from Mendel, who has gotten better, but is still prone to acting more like a dad than a psychiatrist. Maybe it’s what Jason needs and he appreciates it all the same. Sometimes the roles are reversed, however. Instead of Mendel’s office, it happens in the dining room on the table with chairs and bodies turned to face each other. Jason doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough that listening and responding to Mendel isn’t too difficult. Jason’s not a psychiatrist, can’t offer more than a few words and his attention, but Mendel doesn't seem to mind. 

Trina never truly hated Whizzer. She told Jason that she had forgiven Whizzer long ago, that he was a friend even after the whole affair (pun unintended). She holds Jason tight when need be, a calming and soothing presence even while her voice wavers at points. Much like with Mendel, they talk about anything: from feelings to school to the past. She’s hardly the harried woman from years ago, but she isn’t completely gone. Either way, she moves on with her family by her side because Trina Weisenbachfeld is hardly one to stay stuck.

Marvin looks better—not that he hasn’t forgotten Whizzer. His apartment feels emptier and the air sometimes still feels thick with grief, but he’s no longer holed up in his room like he was in the weeks following Whizzer’s death. He takes Jason out to play ball, eat ice cream, talk about school and whatever music he’s been listening to. But he pauses sometimes, stareing out at a point beyond Jason. The moments are gone as soon as they come, and Jason calls it out when he sees it happen. Not in a bad way, only to stop him from entering a spiral he knows Marvin will go down and never get out of. He’s slipped up sometimes but Marvin’s not entirely alone, nor does he shy away from comforting others, a task he is still somewhat awkward in doing (but is appreciated nonetheless).

Cordelia cooked a lot in the days following Whizzer’s funeral. There is no doubt that Whizzer’s passing left a mark, even if they only knew each other for a few months, although it felt like years with how often must have Marvin spoken of him. She has a watery smile and holds Jason tight as they both cry. Cordelia bounces back, however, with recipes and stories in spades. Her smile is as bright as ever as she continues to expand her catering business and worries about everyone—including herself. She cooks, and Jason helps—as does Marvin—and somehow the world seems right as they laugh and move around each other with as much grace as three people in a small kitchen can have. It doesn’t bring Whizzer back, but with Cordelia it doesn’t seem so bad as they laugh and smile.

Charlotte doesn’t say a lot, but she gives Jason facts. Concise, like the doctor she is. But she’s not completely detached. Jason tells her to stop, that he’ll read about it. There are articles around talking about how many people have it, how many people _died_ —but Charlotte also gives him stories that he probably won’t see in journals or newspapers. The patients aren’t just numbers or paragraphs in a magazine; sometimes they’re friends, most of the time strangers, but they all come in and leave like Whizzer did, but not a lot of them have families who want to see them. The ones that wanted, told Charlotte what they could as they were withering away and wanted (and most of the time  _needed_ ) _someone_ who would listen. Charlotte takes breaks because she absolutely needs it, but she still works because she  _wants_ to help.

Marvin and Charlotte see each other a lot, talking in the kitchen about what could—“ _Will_ ,” interrupted Marvin the first time this happened, “What _will_ happen.”—when they think Jason’s not listening.

Jason is fifteen when Marvin gets sick too. He falls while they’re taking a walk and he’s swiftly taken to the hospital. He gets worse each time they visit too, but he’s still smiling. Marvin apologizes to everyone, voice almost quiet enough that they have to hold their breath to hear him. He and Jason play chess with Jason winning every time. Marvin takes the losses, not showing any anger that might have been there years earlier. Instead, he praises Jason and asks for the board to be set up again.

Marvin silently accepts his inevitable death, watches as nurses and doctors flit in and out, some giving him quick glances but never with outright contempt. Doctor Charlotte brings news that doesn’t get better. They know it’ll never be good. He dies surrounded by his friends—his family.

Again they try to quiet their crying, again Charlotte’s voice wavers as she reads the time of death.

Again they can’t spend a lot of time there.

—————

It still hurts and leaves Jason wishing that he could tell his thirteen year-old self what awaits him.

Marvin’s plot is next to Whizzer’s, a change made when the latter was dying. Two funerals in nearly two years; it feels like too much, and it is but isn’t at the same time. The steps are the same but the person, obviously, is not because Whizzer and Marvin were almost complete opposites. The feelings he has for them are different, but they followed the same course: anger to understanding to forgiveness to love.

Love is still something Jason thinks over. Before, “love” meant a crying mother and a furious father; a wife tearing her hair out behind closed doors and a husband who loved another person—another man. “Love” led to divorce, but also to his mother loving herself and marrying a man who loved her back, to his father changing and becoming a better man and letting himself love how—and _who_ —he was meant to.

It was in Charlotte and Cordelia’s smiles to each other, in their teasing, and their “sorry’s” when they went too far.

It was hugs both bone-crushing tight and casual, ruffled hair, and talking to Jason about school and going to his games to cheer him on(even though his team lost most of the time).

It was there when they laughed together and at each other (not unkindly). There were inevitably arguments, because love wasn’t perfect, but sincere apologies followed.

It was better than what they had before—what they had seen and heard.

Mendel tells Jason what he once told Trina: “Love is blind and it can tell a million stories—something I don’t think you and I can claim. But it’s also... _unkind_ and sometimes spiteful. It’s messy business, love, but sometimes it’s worth it.”  

It’s a sentiment they still hold on to. Especially now that their family is smaller; now that there is an empty apartment and now pictures and memories will be all they have. But it’s enough.

‘ _It will be enough,_ ’ he thinks when they return to unveil Marvin’s gravestone. Their family may never be the same, but they have to keep moving forward; if not for themselves, then for something else or for those they lost (and those who are still alive). He won't forget them, wouldn't dare do such a thing, but he can't stay like this forever. The grief will pass naturally and smoothly (which is unlikely, but a hopeful thought).

When they leave the cemetery, he leaves something on the headstone. He places it on the side closest to Whizzer’s and leaves with his family surrounding him much like they did with Marvin.

On the marker, a stone, smooth one way and rough another, and big enough to fit in the palm of a hand sits on the edge. It seems at peace with the chess piece near it, if stones could feel such a thing. They made an odd pair, but it _worked_.

Everything would be alright.

 

**Author's Note:**

> whoo  
> first fic in like, years lmao  
> this was supposed to be more jason-centric than it is,,,, but i felt bad leaving everyone else out  
> either way, hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
